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Chapter Text

In hindsight, Steve Harrington was way in over his head. He should have minded his damn business and stood his ground. But fate, more commonly known as Dustin Henderson’s persistence, had other plans in mind.

The bell rang above the door of Family Video. Steve whipped around in borderline terror as he had forgotten he was even working and scanned his eyes around the store until he met face-to-face with Dustin Henderson, a sheepish smile lined across his cap-lined face. 

“Steveee-“Dustin drew out, “Buddy! How are you? Been keeping busy haven’t you-” He patted the counter softly but got fingerprints over the pristine glass Steve had just wiped down an hour ago. 

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together into a thick line. He crossed his arms, and in a concerned voice replied, “You never call me Steve.”

Dustin scoffed, “Uh, yes I do? All the time-“He maneuvered into one of the isles, ducking low in some pathetic attempt to make it seem like he was here to rent a movie all along. Steve didn’t buy it for a second. After saving the world 1, 2.. 4 times, you’d think Henderson would realize he couldn’t lie for shit, yet here he was.

“Noooo, you only call me ‘Steve’ when you want something from me.” He took out the spray bottle and rag from under the counter, seconds away from spraying Henderson’s fingerprints off, when Dustin zipped back in front of him, eyes wide and hands already in a pleading gesture.

“Please, please, please come to Hellfire tonight, Eddie’s been making this huge oneshot for all of us this weekend and wants each of us to bring a new member for the fuck of it and I kinda already told him that you were interested in playing, and he literally bet a hundred god damn dollars on your refusal to come. I wanna use the money to maybe get some better computer parts to talk to Suzie, and I swear to god Harrington if you don’t do this for me I will collapse on the floor and die of heartbreak! And your bet your ass won’t be in the will.” 

Steve stood there dumbfounded as Dustin gasped for air, wiping the spit in the corners of his mouth while he rambled onto his shirt sleeve. “Gross dude… And why the fuck would I join your nerd club and do all that nerd shit if I’m not gonna get some of the cash on my name?” Steve set down the rag in his hand to rub his thumb against his index and middle finger, raising his eyebrows as he watched the gears in Henderson’s head turn. 

“This is so not fair,” Dustin huffed out, slamming his hands on the glass, immediately prompting Steve to swat at him to get away from the counter. Dustin groaned and rubbed his eyes before exclaiming, “Fine! I get 75 and you get 25.”

“Absolutely not, Henderson.” 

“70-30?” 

Steve threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, “Do you even want me there?” 

“Okay, Okay! 65-35 anddd I won’t tell Robin you’ve been smoking again.” 

Steve followed Dustin’s pointed finger, leading directly to the pack of Marlboros tucked half-hazard in Steve’s front pocket. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said sharply, shoving the pack further into his jeans. 

Henderson’s mischievous smile matched the glint in his eyes as he shrugged before turning around, “Pick me up at 4:45 Harrington, we can’t be late!” 

Great. Now Steve had to close up early, at the risk of pissing off Keith, and listen to a bunch of nerds gush over make-believe for hours on end. 

Like that, fate had walked into Steve’s job and thrown a wrench in his grand scheme. To live as much of an everyday life as he could before shit hits the fan again? Yeah, that clearly wasn’t in the cards for Harrington. 

-•-

Steve’s shoes squeaked as he walked down the hallway of Hawkin’s High. Shaking off the droplets of rain that refused to sink into the cheap material of his employee vest, he chided over his shoulder, “If you had told me sooner, I would have had time to change and not look like an idiot.” 

Dustin shoots Steve a confused look, “Who are you trying to impress?” 

“Nobody asswipe. Eddie will just know that you were lying to him about me wanting to play this stupid game,” Steve taunted, turning the corner and scanning for the door closest to the Auditorium. He had been inside a couple of times, primarily because of his unfortunate run-in with the spring musical freshman year, but he remembered seeing Eddie a couple of times slipping into the prop room every couple of weeks during practices, or rehearsals, or whatever, so he figured it was where Hellfire set up shop. 

“Vest or not, you’re still stuck with us,” Dustin left it at that, jogging past Steve to throw open the door to his left with his signature gap-toothed smile.

Steve wandered in after him, looking all around the room in awe. It was damn near dark, the only lights illuminating the place being the candles scattered across the trunks and tables that lined the prop room and a few extra stage lights that painted the center of the room in an orange and blue glow. Though the half-built sets crowded the room’s edges, all focus was pulled into the table ahead of him. It was littered with dice and paper, with a grid under everything that Steve couldn’t understand the purpose of, little figurines standing within its bounds.

Caught up in taking the scenery in, Steve had missed everyone in the room greeting Dustin with excited chatter and claps on the back. Instead, a loud whistle sounded from the end of the table, and Steve’s eyes were suddenly met with Eddie Munson’s smirking face.

“Well I’ll be damned… Steve’ The Hair’ Harrington, what a pleasure it is for you to join us lowlives.” Eddie’s voice rings out, earning a few chuckles from the kids sitting at the table. 

Steve rolled his eyes, shrugging off his vest as he sat near the end of the table next to Dustin and Mike, “Yeah yeah Munson, let’s just get this shit over with.” 

Eddie paused, hands frozen from shuffling through the bills tucked in his worn black wallet. He turned toward Steve, furrowing his brows and putting a hand on his heart, “I was under the assumption that you actually wanted to play. Henderson was very detailed on your enthusiasm.” He casts a glance at Dustin, who was trying his best not to look like a deer in headlights while kicking Steve’s leg under the table. 

Steve swore under his breath but remembered Dustin’s promise of cash and secrecy, so he managed to pull himself together, “I mean yeah, with how many times Henderson has talked my ear off about your’ talents,’ I thought I’d stop by to judge for myself.”

He wears a smug expression, noticing how the corner of Eddie’s eye twitched for a moment before he pulled out a couple of twenties and handed them to Dustin, who looked like he had never seen money in his life. 

This, however, was Eddie’s fortress, and boy did he love to impress. 

“I hope you buckle up Harrington. Just because your new to Hellfire doesn’t mean I’m gonna take it easy on you,” He smiled something wicked, bitting the bottom of his lip before handing Steve a set of papers over the folders that hide what Steve assumed were more dice and figurines, “I did most of the handy work. I even took the time to explain the classes for your simpleton mind. Dustin will fill the rest out for you, all you have to do is take your pick.” 

Steve looked at the papers, words and numbers scratched everywhere in heavy handwriting. ‘God damn this is complicated,’ he thought to himself, shuffling to find a notebook paper filled with words. ‘Druid, Fighter, Cleric, Thief, blah blah blah.’ He skimmed through a couple of the paragraphs Eddie had written before looking up at the rest of the table, who had been completely silent while he read. 

Steve frowned, “What?”

“Everyone else has their characters already. We’re just waiting on you,” chimed Mike.

“Great, way to single me out Wheeler,” Steve looked back down at the page when something caught his eye:

Paladin- Subclass of Fighter, has the ability to hurt and to heal. Always wants what is right and lawful for the party; chivalry and strength are crucial for this class.

‘Hurt and heal,’ Steve repeats. It’s a good balance. It reminded him of himself, the balance he tried to keep protecting the kids and battling the monsters of the Upside Down. He took a once over of the page before setting it down, “I’ll go with paladin.”

The room erupted, people shouting all around Steve. Dustin stood up, hands flying to Mike’s shoulders to shake him. Steve finally realized in the midst of it all that Erica, Lucas, and Max were there, along with Eddie’s bandmates. He paned the room, confused as to why his choice was causing such an extreme reaction, and saw Eddie cackling feverishly between loud boasts of, “I told you all! I told you! What did I say?” 

Then Steve’s eyes dropped to see everyone was pulling out wads of dollar bills, tossing them towards Eddie, “What’s with everyone taking bets on me today? You trying to hustle the kids out of money Munson?” He glares at Eddie, who was unfolding the bills that pilled near his D&D screen, clearly unaffected by Steve’s accusations. 

“No, my dear Harrington. This isn’t dirty money. Hell, it wasn’t even my idea. After Henderson and I made the bet on your attendance, the rest of the group started to wonder what class you’d end up choosing, which transformed into a heated debate. Henderson and the Sinclair’s thought you’d be a ranger, Wheeler thought you’d be a thief, that and the like.” Eddie waved his now freed hands as he talked, “So we settled everything with a bet. And I chose paladin.” 

Steve hit Dustin’s shoulder with his backhand, muttering something along the lines of ‘Nice going asshole’ before returning his attention to Eddie, “So you think you know me, Munson?”

“Not at all, Harrington. I’d just like to think it was Divine Intuition.” Eddie flashed him a cocky grin, irking Steve greatly. The fuck did Eddie know about him? They’ve been to the Upside Down together twice, and now Eddie Munson wants to act like he has Steve all figured out.

“Whatever you say Munson, just start the damn game.”

Chapter Text

“And I’m pissed at myself for not realizing the barkeep was the Big Bad all along. I mean, Addox was basically dragging us around, making us do these dumbass side quests posted in his tavern, and turns out? We were doing his bidding the entire god damn time!” 

Pacing the span of the counter, Steve talked rapidly as Robin attempted to stack Airheads in a pyramid, tongue pinched between her teeth in focus. “And like, I’ll be real, I wasn’t into it for most of the game. It was basically all just talking, and having Addox actually be a Mind Flayer did freak me the fuck out till Munson showed the figurine, but you can’t not care when your the only healer left alive and everyone else is rolling below a fifteen.” Steve leaned onto the counter with what was apparently enough force to knock down the tower Robin had meticulously assembled, the last bar still in her hand. He looked down at her, grimacing at his mistake, “My bad Rob.”

Now standing, Robin rested one hand on the counter and waved the Airhead around with the other, “Yeah your bad- How come I wasn’t invited?” She pushes against Steve’s chest, dropping the Airhead in his hand, “I knew Eddie way before you. I miss one shift, one shift! And now the both of you are buddy-buddy?” 

Steve held his hands up in defense, “Hey now, me and Munson are not ‘buddy-buddy’ or anything like that. I just got roped into the game, that’s all. If it wasn’t for Henderson, I wouldn’t have gone in the first place.”

“You wound me Harrington,” said a voice, practically roaring in the otherwise quiet corner of Family Video, “And here I thought we were just starting to get along.” Eddie strolled up between Robin and Steve, plucking the red packet out of Steve’s hand while speaking to Robin, “You know he’s really good with a bat? I tried to convince him to use quite literally any other weapon for his paladin, but Henderson cooked up some reality-bent version of Harrington’s ‘Ol’ Reliable’ I keep hearing about, and who am I to tell the little angel no?” He smacked his lips after placing the bright red candy on his tongue, sending Steve reeling.

“Your paying for that by the way,” he said bitterly, returning behind the register to ring up the candy. 

“Slow your roll Harrington, is this how you treat all your loyal patrons?” Eddie walks in front of the register, cocking his head to the side with that same snarky look he always had, “What if I wanted to rent a movie from your fine establishment?” 

Rolling his eyes, Steve silently swore to himself that his eyes would get stuck in the back of his head one day and responded flatly, “No one’s stopping you Munson. Go wild.” 

Eddie gave an exaggerated bow despite Steve’s attitude before weaving his way through the isles.

The interaction apparently confused Robin, who looked back and forth between Eddie and Steve like it was the most intense game of tennis ever televised, but said nothing as she went back to stacking Airheads on the counter. 

Steve couldn’t help but watch as Eddie surveyed the rows of C-list movies, though he could only see the curls that shot up from the top of his head. They looked more cohesive than the usual frizzy swirls, probably from Hawkins’ uptick in humidity.

“You have any recommendations, Harrington?”

Steve snapped back into reality, hoping he wasn’t caught zoning out by either of his company and choked out, “Uh- I don’t know, Risky Business is always a go-to for me.” 

There were snorts a few feet ahead of him, Eddie wholeheartedly cackling where Steve couldn’t see him. 

Worried he said something wrong, Steve looked to Robin, who was trying to muffle her own laugh. 

“What’s wrong with Risky Business?” 

Howling with laughter, Eddie dragged himself back to the counter, clutching his chest, “God Steve- no, nothing’s wrong with Risky Business” he leaned over, catching his breath as he fogged up the glass. Then, through his bangs, he looked up at Steve with a gigantic smile across his rose-tinted face, “It’s practically your autobiography.”

Steve scrunched his face, “Not true- I did not transform my parent’s house into a brothel, and I’m certainly not going to Princeton for college.” 

“I don’t know man, I still have vivid memories of King Steve’s ragers.”

“You went to my parties?” 

Eddie gave a look to Robin, one Steve can’t quite read, before moseying back to the comedy shelf, “Stevie, darling, I’m one of the only dealers in this shithole town. Of course I attended your parties,” he plucks Risky Business off the shelf before dramatically spinning around, “Maybe you never noticed with all the drunk chicks sinking their teeth into your neck hm?” 

Heat crept up Steve’s chest to his face, embarrassment seeping through the cracks as he skimmed his memories of all the parties he used to throw. How did he manage to not cross paths with Eddie when he was the one causing his house to smell like skunk for days on end? Did he just call him Stevie? Munson had a point, he did let the ‘girl of the night’ sweep him off his feet amongst the crowd of drunk teens during most of his parties. Darling?

“Tell you what Harrington, I don’t have cash on me to rent this movie or pay for the candy. But! I do have an ounce sitting around the trailer begging to be smoked. So how’s about you come over, we can smoke, and you can lecture me on all the ways Risky Business and your life story don’t match up.” Eddie waved the tape in front of Steve’s eyes, shaking it slightly.

Pinching his brow, Steve mulled over his offer. On the one hand, hanging out with Eddie one-on-one felt like his ultimate nightmare coming to fruition. The other hand was holding a perfectly rolled joint at the edge of Steve’s mind that looked so tempting that he had to hold himself back from licking his lips. 

He exhaled before snatching the tape out of Eddie’s hand, “Fine Munson, but this is never happening again. Keith will have my head if he finds out.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Eddie replied, sending Steve a wink before walking out of the store. 

It was only when the van pulled out of the lot that Steve noticed the airhead wrapper still on the counter, and the weight of the entire situation fell onto his shoulders. 

“Am I really going to smoke with Eddie’ The Freak’ Munson and watch Risky Business?” He asked, crumbling the wrapper before tossing it in the trash.

Robin folded her arms, blowing hair out of her eyes as she looked at the setting sun beyond the entrance to Family Video, “Yup.” 

-•-

“What the hell am I doing,” Steve muttered under his breath, turning off his BMW before shoving the keys in his pocket. He’s still for a moment, muttering to himself about how dumb it was to take Eddie up on his offer before getting the courage to open the car door and step out. 

‘Come on Harrington, think of the weed,’ Steve repeated to himself, pushing past the weird gut feeling that settled in his stomach as he walked to the front door. 

He can barely lift his hand up to knock on the door before Eddie opens it, the smell of weed hitting his senses before he even processed that the door was open.

“Harrington! Did anyone ever tell you your car sounds like a goddamn freight train?” Eddie’s arm reached above the doorframe to his trailer, elongating his body and hiking up the corner of a band t-shirt Steve couldn’t read for the life of him to expose a patch of pale skin. It was a different version of Eddie, who ditched the denim and leather layers for something more soft around the edges.

Steve, however, would refuse to acknowledge that he acknowledged how Eddie looked backlit by the warm lighting inside the trailer, or how overdressed he was for the occasion. Instead, he halfheartedly fired back, “Fuck you Munson, she runs like a dream.”

“Whew, fiery tonight, are we? Let’s get some of that good smoke into your lungs before the bad smoke starts leaking out your ears.” 

Eddie gestures past the door, letting Steve enter before following up behind him. “I tried to clean up a little, but there is only so much I can do when I have to stand under the crack in my ceiling that turned my world upside down,” Eddie freezes, running a hand through his hair, “no pun intended of course.” 

Steve stares at the ceiling as he enters the living room, managing a small smile at Eddie’s unintentional joke, “No worries man, every one of us deals with the grief differently.” 

Rummaging the couch, Eddie found the remote to the TV and grabbed the VHS tape from the side table closest to him, “Make yourself at home, I demand an in-depth analysis on Tom Cruise’s acting debut in reflection of your years as Hawkin’s King.”

Steve sat on the couch, too respectful of Eddie’s space to take up half the couch and far too eager to smoke, so he settled close to the edge of the couch, looking everywhere. Yeah, he’s been here a handful of times, but it felt different back then. There was no impending doom, no pressure to create a plan to defeat Vecna, no adrenaline… Maybe a little adrenaline, probably from Steve’s nerves. 

While Eddie set up the movie, he busied himself by looking at the knick-knacks that lined almost every surface. There were a lot of mugs. Like an obsessive amount of mugs. He noticed some of them missing from the shelves that lined the top of the walls, and it dawned on him all over again that this had been where Chrissy died. ‘Bless her heart,’ he thought, having someone completely unaware of what was really happening in Hawkings die for Vecna’s cause. His chest felt tight with sadness and anger. The fact that Eddie had to witness that, hide from multiple mobs, survive the Upside Down, save everyone from being taken under Vecna’s control through his guitar solos… And after it was all over? Pick up the pieces of the ceramics and his life and move on. Absolutely brutal. 

“You ready for Munson’s signature and official blunt? I even went to the gas station with a fake to get my favorite wraps,” Eddie said, apparating next to Steve on the couch with a rolling tray across his thighs.

Steve, caught off guard, did not respond. How long had he zoned out? ‘Jesus Steve get a grip, don’t act like this when you’re stoned.’

“I’mma take that devoid stare as a yes! Yay weed.” 

Eddie quickly set to work, tearing the quarter-sized chunks of green into smaller pieces into a grinder, carefully placing the jagged lid onto itself before pressing it down between his hands. His hands twist the lid back and forth. Then, when he seemed satisfied, he flipped the grinder upside down and set it down on the tray, grabbing the pack of wraps next to his zippo lighter. 

Steve couldn’t help but be mesmerized by Eddie’s process. He wasn’t the type to go for blunts. His old group of friends usually did all the work for him, packing bowls or joints, but watching Eddie’s fingers meticulously sprinkle specs of green along the dried tobacco leaf reinvigorated Steve. The silver rings coating Eddie’s fingers paid no mind to the commotion, clinking ever so slightly as he tucked the wrap over itself. 

Suddenly Eddie turned to Steve, “Uh, I don’t know if you know how blunts work and shit, but I kinda gotta lick the edge to get it to seal right. We’re sharing this anyway so it doesn’t even matter, swapping spit is swapping spit. I’m saying all this beforehand so you don’t karate chop me in the throat.”

Scoffing, Steve sits back further into the couch, “I’ve seen worse.” 

Eddie’s tongue darted out between a smile, licking the edge of the paper as he rolled the blunt into a tight cylinder. Steve tried not to watch, picking up the remote to the TV and fiddling with it, but his focus kept slipping towards Eddie’s hands and mouth. 

“My dear Harrington, I must say… This has to be one of my best creations yet.” Eddie proudly showed off his work to Steve, the blunt laying in the palm of his hand. “Can I trust you to spark up without fucking with the burn? Ladies first and all.”

With deft fingers, Steve pucked the blunt out of Eddie’s hand and reached for the lighter on the tray, “I’m not new to this Munson.” He puts the blunt between his lips, flicking open the lighter and cupping his hand around the flame as he lights it. After taking the few initial hits, Steve passes the blunt to Eddie and exhales a large plume of smoke with ease.

“I didn’t expect you to be such a pro at this Harrington.”

“And I didn’t expect you to have such strong weed,” Steve’s body already began to feel fuzzy, a tingling sensation making itself home under his skin, “God, I missed this.”

Eddie’s hand nudged Steve’s shoulder, holding the blunt towards him, “When’s the last thing you smoked?” 

Steve accepted, taking another hit as he thought, “Probably Scoop’s Ahoy. It was one of my pastimes until the Russians gave me a high from hell. After that the idea of ‘altering my mindstate’ just gave me the creeps” Steve exhaled smoke once more before handing it back to Eddie, ignoring how he looked at him in his peripheral. He thought for sure that Eddie was going to press him further, ask him what changed, why was he smoking now? Why with him? It didn’t matter, Steve wouldn’t be able to give him an answer anyway.

Eddie didn’t pressure him, dropping the subject entirely as he hit the blunt, doing silly tricks like having the tendrils of smoke pour out of his mouth and into his nose. 

“Invites someone to smoke yet hogs the blunt. How rude,” Steve chastised. 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll let you have the rest,” Eddie cautiously slipped the roach between Steve’s fingers, making sure not to burn either of them. Stammering, Eddie ran his hands through his hair, “I- uh, know said we were gonna watch Risky Business and stuff, but now that we’re all high and shit… I don’t know.” 

“Movie Schmovie dude,” Steve reached over to the side table to stub out the roach, “I’ve never seen your room before, I could get the Munson signature and official tour.” He shot a loose smile over at Eddie, a giant grin plastered from ear to ear.

“Your funeral Stevie.”

Steve peeled himself off of the couch with a groan, following Eddie down the hallway past his bedroom door. It was mildly overwhelming, partly from the mess and mostly from the sheer amount of stuff that filled the room. He immediately noticed Eddie’s guitar hanging in front of his mirror, and if it wasn’t for the weed fogging his brain Steve might have spiraled into recounting the battle between Vecna and the gang. Quickly moving past the mirror, Steve sees handcuffs, which made his brain skip like a broken record. ‘The fuck did he get those? You know what, I’m not even going to ask.’ There was no inch of empty space on his walls, posters upon posters tapped corner to corner. Similar to Eddie’s band t-shirts, he could barely read any of the text that hovered over depictions of various hellspawn.

“It’s like chicken scratch,” Steve muttered.

“I’m going to pretend like I’m not appalled by that observation. If anyone else said that in the sanctity of my own room, I would actually have to be convicted of first-degree murder.” 

Steve turned around to see Eddie sitting crisscross on top of his bedspread, a small leather satchel in his hand. “And I get a pass because?” 

Eddie shrugged, “I know you won’t get it. But, no harm no foul, that’s what you get for living your preppy little lifestyle.”

“I’m not preppy anymore dude. High school’s been over for me for like, what, a year? All that ‘King Steve’ shit means nothing to me after learning what’s really important in life.”

Steve regretted how defensive he sounded, wishing he would have bit his tongue or said something that didn’t sound so pointed. 

“You’re right, but you still have shit music taste,” Eddie said simply. He opened the satchel, diffusing the tension Steve had created by redirecting his energy, “Why don’t you look through my records and play something? Music Education 101 featuring Stardom-bound Professor Munson.” 

Letting out a small laugh, Steve found the crate of records on Eddie’s floor. Steve sifted through each record, many of them matching the posters he saw on the walls, but one stood out like a sore thumb. He pulled out the record, green with gold embellishments, and read it aloud. “Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too, long-playing record with matching illustrated book- Why do you even have this Munson?”

He looked at Eddie from over his shoulder and noticed how frozen he looked. White knuckled as he held the satchel, his mouth slightly agape. 

After a few moments Eddie responded uncharacteristically quiet, “Wayne gave it to me when I moved in with him. I was nine, it was the year my mom overdosed and my dad threw a bitch when he came home to see me wearing her heels,” he looked down at the floor, “It uh- it helped with the nightmares.” 

“Jesus Eddie, I’m sorry.” Steve clenched his jaw, taken back by Eddie’s honesty. He wanted to say more, say that he couldn’t imagine what Eddie must have dealt with, that he understood what it was like to have absent parents. He put the record back gently, “I wouldn’t have said something if I knew.” 

“It’s not like you could have known anyway, just pick something before my brain melts.”

Steve picked a Def Leppard album, knowing nothing about it except that the album cover looked cool, and set up the record to play at a low volume. 

Eddie pat the space next to him on the bed, “Have you ever done a tarot reading?” 

Steve sat down, realizing that what Eddie was holding the entire him was a deck of cards, “Nope. All I know is it tells you your fortune or something like that.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, “It doesn’t tell you for fortune per se, it’s actually good for giving advice on situations and shit. Clarity or whatever.” He shuffled the cards absentmindedly as he talked, “You can ask about anything- what the future holds, why you feel like shit, your love life,” Eddie nudged Steve’s knee, “What do you say Harrington?”

“I could use some advice that’s not Robin’s.”

Eddie smiled, handing the tarot deck to Steve, “Ok, I need you to hold these and close your eyes. Think about the question ‘What has my love life looked like? What will it look like in the future?’ and imagine your thoughts flowing from your arms to the cards. Hand them over only when you feel ready to.” 

Steve scoffed, holding back a multitude of snarky comments and he looked between Eddie and the cards. Seeing the sincere look on Eddie’s face, Steve took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting himself think about his love life. He tried his best to imagine energy flowing through his arms to the cards, as stupid as he thought it was and was surprised at the sense of calm that rushed over him. He handed the cards back to Eddie, eyes fluttering open.

“Alright, one love reading for Steven Harrington, coming right up!” Eddie laughed, starting to shuffle the cards at a quick pace.

Steve groaned, “Never call me that again. Seriously, why does everyone think my name is a nickname? Honestly, my parents just weren’t creative.”

Two cards flew out of the deck onto Eddie’s lap, “I just like seeing you all worked up over it.” 

Three cards fell into Steve’s lap, short-circuiting his brain before he could attempt to discern the meaning of Eddie’s response. 

“This deck usually aren’t this chatty, they must have a lot to say,” Eddie said as two more came flying out of the deck onto his bed. He slides the rest of the deck back into his satchel before placing the fallen cards in front of him into three separate stacks. He flipped them over one by one, bottom lip tucked under his teeth as he looked over each card.

“Am I gonna die or what, “Steve asked, arms folded. It was odd to see Eddie so quiet, so focused in contrast to his typical blazing ‘fuck-it-all’ attitude. He started to wonder how much of that was real, if it was a performance or done out of defense.

“I’m reading bitch. Calm the fuck down.”

“You’re staring at pictures.”

Eddie glared at him, “Do you want to know if you ever get laid again or what?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Fine I’ll shut up.”

Eddie holds up the first pile of cards, “Ok, so I take this as your past. You got the Two of Cups, which is literally about love and romance-”

“I got Death? Why are we skipping over the fact that I got the card of Death?”

“Oh my god Steve shut the fuck up I’m getting there- the Death card doesn’t mean you’re going to die. Most of the time it refers to turning a new chapter or a transformation. However, having it reversed, or upside down, indicates stagnation.”

“My love life sucks ass, yes I know that.”

“Right, your present though,” Eddie picked up the second pile, “is the Tower and the Page of Wands.” 

Steve picked the tower card out of Eddie’s hand, scanning the illustration. A tower set ablaze by a lightning strike, with two people falling in the foreground. “That’s two people falling off a building Eddie. Are you sure I’m not going to die?”

“Ask about death one more time Harrington I swear to god,” Eddie took in a deep breath, “As I was saying, the tower indicates upheaval. The shattering of what you once knew,” he pucks out the Tower card out of Steve’s hand and sets it down, “and the page of wands is about a man who beats the odds. Someone who defies his circumstances and other people’s perception.” 

“That’s me right?"

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie looked over the card again, thumb dragging along the edge of the cardstock, “So maybe things are gonna change?” He picks up the last pile, “Yeah. The Last Judgment and the Nine of Cups shows a change of heart, renewal and a new outcome. Nine of Cups specifically is about being content,” he gathered up all the cards, slipping them back into the satchel, “you have your work cut out for you, but the cards say things are looking up.” 

Steve nodded slowly, “Cool, that’s cool. Thanks for doing this. The reading I mean. And having me over. You’re not as abrasive when it’s just you around.”

Eddie tossed the satchel on his nightstand, and in a mocking tone replied, “That’s a big word Stevie, you want a gold star?”  

“Don’t patronize me asshole, I’m trying to be nice.”

“Well, why don’t you be a doll and turn off the record player? I’m two seconds away from passing out with the lights on and lord knows what Wayne will do with me when the bill hits.” 

Getting up and turning off the record player, Steve looked at Eddie tucking himself under his covers. Hair flung in every direction, he couldn’t see anything except Eddie’s eyes, and even then they looked hazy under his bangs.

“You can crash on the couch if you want. Here-” Eddie threw a pillow directly at Steve’s head, trying his best to contain his laughter before adding, “Blankets are under the TV mantle.” 

Steve tucked the pillow under his arms, shaking his head in disapproval before flipping the light switch off. “Goodnight Munson.”

“Sweet Dreams Harrington.” 

It took a while for Steve to get comfortable. The couch had sunk in weird spots that warped his back in a way he knows will make him sore in the morning, his feet dangerously close to cutting off his circulation from having them dangle off the armrest. He tucks his knees into himself, tucking the blanket to his chin and mushing the pillow between his arms and under his head. It smelled like Eddie. Weed, cigarettes, sweat, and the unmistakable scent of Farrah Fawcett hairspray. ‘That’s fucking rich,’ Steve thought to himself, making a mental note to tease Eddie in the morning. 

Steve lulled in and out of sleep, tossing and turning like he did most nights, fortunately without any nightmares. He did, however, wake up fully to the sounds of rustling. His heart pulsed in his chest, adrenaline starting to kick in. Quietly standing up, Steve realized the sound wasn’t coming from outside, but from Eddie’s room. As he silently crept down the hallway, Steve had to convince himself that nothing bad was happening. ‘Maybe he’s just adjusting or something. Come on Steve you sound stupid right now.’ 

He peaked his head around the doorframe, squinting in the darkness to make out the shape of Eddie. He was shaking, face contorted in fear or pain, Steve couldn’t tell. Something was wrong. Eddie was having a nightmare. 

‘Shit.’

Steve tried to think of what to do. Should he wake him up? Comfort him? That would be weird though right? But Steve understood, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since Will disappeared. Nightmares of Demogorgons and Demodogs, Barb in his pool, Vecna, and being eaten alive by the bats in the Upside Down. It plagued Steve more than he was willing to admit, but he would rather take those nightmares than recount Chrissy Cunningham on his ceiling any day. ‘Nightmares, didn’t Eddie mention something earlier that night about nightmares?’ 

It dawned on him, Steve tiptoeing to Eddie’s record player and kneeling to take out the Def Leppard vinyl. Moving the volume dial to the lowest setting, Steve set the needle onto the Winnie the Pooh disc, increasing the volume to play just above a whisper. He swiveled to face Eddie’s bed, seeing his chest rise with ragged breaths. The narrator began to spin a tale of Winnie and Tigger in the Hundred Acre Wood, and as the story progressed, Eddie seemed to have come out of his nightmare. His hand lying beside him unclenched, his breathing slowed, and when Steve stood, he could see Eddie’s face had relaxed, eyelashes splaying out against his cheeks and lips slightly apart. 

Steve made it to the doorframe before he glanced back one last time. He was bone tired, the post-adrenaline haze making him drowsier than the blunt they smoked earlier that night. Still, looking at Eddie tucked in his bed, he smiled to himself. Eddie was sweeter than he remembered. What Steve was to do with that realization, he didn’t know. He just knew he was going to be late to work tomorrow.

Chapter Text

How Steve managed to find himself in the parking lot of The Palace Arcade, he’ll never know.

Well... That’s not entirely true. He knew exactly how he got there, it was all Robin’s fault.

When Steve showed up disheveled and grumpy as all-get-out after spending the night at Eddie’s, Robin kept prodding him throughout his shift to “spill the details” about their interaction.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Rob- we smoked, ditched the movie, he gave me a tarot card reading, and we went to bed. That’s it.” Steve glared at Robin as a customer came through the door, shooing her off toward the unfortunate soul and basking in the moment of solitude.

The peace was brief, Robin rounded the corner of the aisle closest to Steve and whispered, “Tarot card reading? What was it about? What did he say?”

Steve’s lips pressed into a fine line, a hand motioning a key locking the corner of his mouth, the other flipping the page of some random Tiger Beat magazine, “Man we really need to branch out, how many times do I have to read about Scott Baio-”

“Don’t you dare try and change the subject on me Steve,” Robin hissed, loud enough for the customer near the front of the store to look up in confusion. Robin turned and smiled, giving a small wave to deflect the pair of eyes elsewhere before returning to Steve, “You’re seriously not going to tell me?” She popped a hip, arms crossed with a frown, “Your best friend. Your *only* friend. The one who has, will, and would share all of her confidential secrets with you?” Robin leaned in closer, whispering, “The one who, for god sake, almost died with you? *Twice?*” 

Steve scratched the back of his neck, “You make a point Rob. But, I don’t know… I just don’t want the universe to, like, double back and fuck me over again if I tell anyone. Like how you’re not supposed to say what you wished for when you blow out birthday candles.” His hand fell to his side, “Munson said that things might be looking up. I’m just trying to hold onto that as much as I can.” 

Robin rolled her eyes, “Fine. Fine! you fucking sap.” 

She paused, chewing her lip as she squinted at him in sudden thought, “You know, I was gonna invite you to third-wheel me and Vickie at The Palace on Saturday, but with this cold shoulder you’ve given me today I guess I’ll invite Eddie instead.” A manic look spread across her face, the corners of her mouth creasing as she stopped Steve from flipping another page, “You know Eddie’d tell me everything that happened if I asked him to right?” 

Steve folded quickly after that, not wanting to risk Robin running her mouth, or Eddie’s for that matter. 

He would spend the rest of the week complaining to Robin about the whole affair until the weekend came, not so much picking her up as dragging away Robin from her twenty-minute soliloquy on how hopeless her wardrobe choices were. 

“Robin, honey, as entertaining as it is watching you freak over impressing this girl- it doesn’t matter! You look cute as you are, Vickie’s not going to analyze your outfit like some pretentious dipshit from the city.” Steve stood at the doorway, staring at the post-apocalyptic state of Robin’s bedroom.

Robin groaned, looking at the mirror that hung from inside her closet door, “You don’t know that!” 

“She’s a band geek!” Steve knocked on the doorframe before walking down the hall, shaking the keys in his hand for emphasis, “Now get in the car before I make both of y’all walk.”

Picking up Vickie was an easier ordeal, all the bickering between Steve and Robin dissipating as soon as she slid into the backseat, “Hey, thanks for the ride.”

Steve looked into the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the driveway, “No problem Vick, it’s not like Robin can drive anyway.” 

Robin slapped Steve’s shoulder, “I told you I was working on it!” She turned back to Vickie, “I swear I’m working on it, it’s just a little nerve-wracking with all the buttons and stuff- and I have like really bad spatial awareness so I don’t know how or when to stop to not hit cars or like people-”

Steve turned the radio up as he drove to The Palace on the other side of town, blasting whatever the Hot 100 had to offer on his usual station. 

“Did you know the name Amadeus means ‘lover of god’ in Latin?” Vickie piped up the moment Steve turned off the car.

Robin couldn’t hide her wide smile as she stepped out of the car, “You know Latin? I only know Pig Latin, well, not just Pig Latin, actually a couple of other languages-”

Steve, opening the door to the arcade, intervened, “Ladies, this is riveting and all, but why don’t you take it inside and start cashing in for quarters. I’ll wait out here to see if Eddie's a no-show.” 

Vickie snickered as she looked to Robin, who was glaring daggers back at Steve before she reluctantly made her way inside, Vickie following closely behind. Steve mouthed “You’re welcome~” as Robin passed, and wooosh of the door capping the sounds of laughter behind him. 

Steve sighed, moving away from the entrance and into the shadows between his car and the wall. He pulled out his pack of Marlboros and slipped a cigarette into the corner of his mouth. He fumbled around his pockets for a lighter, a sense of complete dread washing over him as he checked and re-checked every possible resting place of his bic, “You’ve got to be shitting me-“ 

“Harrington smoking a cigarette? Birdie’s gonna have fucking cow!”

The cigarette fell out of Steve’s mouth and landed next to a pair of shiny black boots. His eyes trailed upward, black jeans, chains, shiny belt buckle, an infinity loop, no, handcuffs? A mental checklist Steve didn’t know he had marked all the boxes, landing on Eddie Munson’s face. Bangs dusted his forehead and dropped down longer pieces around the sides of his face. The rest of his hair, however, was absent from his shoulders, leaving his neck exposed to the fluorescent hues of The Palace’s neon signs.

“Woah, did you cut your hair?” 

Eddie’s cocked his head to one side, “What? No,” he ducked down to grab the cigarette on the ground, revealing the ponytail that held the rest of his hair, “I was just.. running a couple errands before heading over here.” He gently unbent the cigarette before handing it back to Steve, who took it subconsciously, his eyes still taking in Eddie’s updo. 

After a far too long pause, Steve came back to earth to the sound of Eddie’s lighter clicking, Eddie puffing on his own cigarette. Not his own though, as he looked down to see Eddie had pickpocketed a cigarette from Steve’s carton while his mind was...

“You bitch- you know you could’ve just asked?” Steve gave him a look, despite being slightly grateful that Eddie didn’t ask about Steve’s lackluster social presence. That’s the thing, spend enough time on the verge of death together and the nuances of human interaction seem pointless. Yet, as Eddie carefully lit the end of Steve’s cigarette for him, he couldn’t help but suck in a deep breath in their close proximity. The wave of nicotine hit him, the burn in the back of his throat, causing his vision to fray at the edges.

“Been needing a smoke huh? Birdie’s probably the only one holding you back from chain-smoking that whole pack,” Eddie tutted, “Poor thing.” 

Steve sputtered out a long plume of smoke, his shaky hand plucking out the cigarette as he flicked its ashes towards the ground, “Fuck off Munson, you’re more addicted than I am. Robin wouldn’t stop talking about how hurt you looked when she snatched your pack in the boat. Recounting every damn detail of it even when I was getting my stomach chewed out by Demobats.” Steve motioned to his right hip, “Love her to pieces, but after what the two of us have been through… The least we deserve is a little cigarette now and then.” 

Eddie nodded solemnly, “I’ve tried explaining it to her, but it’s just not getting through. And I’m still pissed that the bats fucked up my best tattoo, I had to sell a couple pounds to go up to Indy and get the piece done, and whoop-de-do! I have a mauled Tim Curry on my ribcage and I my ribs are fucked.” 

Steve let the cigarette butt fall to the ground before stomping it out, his eyebrows angled up with curiosity, “Tim Curry?” 

Eddie waved his hand dismissively, “It’s a long story. Maybe Birdie will tell ya ‘bout it. Speaking of Miss Buckley, we should probably head in, have you ever played Punch-Out?” 

As soon as Steve stepped into The Palace, he knew it was going to be a long night. Not only did he know nothing about the game cabinets that lined the walls, but the barrage of flashing lights and sounds had his head reeling hard to keep it all from swallowing him whole. He blindly followed Eddie to meet the girls who were already playing Dragon’s Lair, Robin swearing under her breath as she smacked the joystick back and forth.

Eddie chucked quietly, nodding to Vickie in a silent hello as to not distract Robin. It didn’t take long for her to die though, kicking the bottom of the cabinet and grumbling as she turned around, “It’s rigged.” 

Steve gave her a weak smile, “Dustin wouldn’t shut the fuck up about this game a couple of years ago. Said the exact same thing after I picked him up one time. Well, that along with a five-minute tantrum.” 

Robin didn’t respond to his anecdote, rather she leaned in toward Steve, and scrunched her nose, “Did you smoke a cigarette? Steve. You know how I feel about cigarettes! That shit will literally collapse your lungs and apparently you don’t care about keeping yourself safe-“

Before Steve could even think of an excuse, Eddie piped up, “Robin, Robin, he didn’t smoke. He kept me company while I had one.” Eddie slapped Steve’s back, chuckling a bit, “Besides, he wouldn’t put his mouth on anything besides a girl or a bottle, right Stevie boy?” 

Robin’s face twisted with disgust, a polarizing opposite of Vickie, who stifled a laugh behind her hand, “Ew! Ew, I didn’t sign up to hear any of that. I’m gonna leave before I vomit, Vickie?” She gives one last piercing glance at Steve before delving deeper into the arcade, and Steve knows she’s bound to interrogate him more the next shift they have together. 

“And who said chivalry was dead?” Eddie quipped, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he looked at Steve, though it faltered after a beat of silence, “Come on, don’t I get a thank you?” 

It was like his neck was on fire. Maybe it was just the lights getting to him, or the adrenaline from almost getting caught by Robin, and with the way Eddie’s hand was still splayed across the nape of his neck, Steve’s focus had been shot. He managed to stutter out a thank you, keeping his eyes low to avoid flashes of light.

Steve could have kicked himself for how pathetic he felt as he followed Eddie around the arcade, eyes plastered to Eddie’s sneakers as they dodged kids running around the cabinets. They stopped at DigDug to admire Max’s top score, unbeatable despite how much time had passed since she first moved into Hawkins. It made Steve feel better, to see the kids he cared about so much leave an impact on their surroundings. One that they could praise openly to all who’ll listen instead of the silent understanding they have all grown accustomed to because of the Upside Down. 

Steve made it to Punch Out, just barely looking at the screen as Eddie not-so-humbly shows off. He was leaning on the corner of the machine, pretending to watch as the pixels cast their bright light onto Eddie’s shirt and jacket. Smooth black leather, blurring the light into some untamed aurora borealis. 

Something caught Steve’s eye though when Eddie raised his arm to prop himself on the Punch Out nameplate. Tucked into the large pocket on the inside of his jacket was a magazine. Steve struggled to focus his eyes beyond the light while trying to avoid Eddie’s gaze. 

Blueboy, the national magazine about men? It’s a very handsome man, Steve gives him that, flexing large arms, maybe it was a confidence magazine? 

Eddie groans louder, moving around more as the game increases in difficulty. He starts missing punches, holding his breath, and getting red in the face. “Come on, don’t do this- Fuck, move!” He whines, “God damn it.”

Steve is staring at the man in Eddie’s pocket. It clicked just like that, something about Eddie’s voice and the mustached, well-oiled man made Steve’s stomach drop.

Eddie likes men. Not just like men, but if those pages are anything like Steve’s collection of Playboy, he gets turned on by men. 

Eddie's head flies back as he crumbles in defeat, the mystery magazine disappearing from Steve’s view, leaving him with the guilt that he saw something he definitely shouldn’t have. 

More than anything, Steve had questions. How long has Eddie known? Where does he get the magazines? Who else knows? Is that why he was always tense around Tommy or Billy? They were bloodhounds for anyone who isn’t “normal” like they were… God the venom he once spat. 

Clenching his jaw, Steve drove the thought away. None of that shit anymore, not that he could tell that to Eddie’s face. He was just gonna pretend like he didn’t see anything until Eddie brought it up himself.

“Do you want to play something?” Eddie’s voice broke through the veil cast over Steve’s eyes, “You seem kinda zoned dude, we gotta get your energy up.” 

Steve shakes his shoulders and cracks his neck, giving his eyes a moment of rest before refocusing on Eddie, plastering on a competitive smile, “Yeah, you’re right. I was just imagining what it would look like when I beat your ass at air hockey.” 

“You wanna bet on that Harrington?” Eddie puffs up his chest, eyes flaring at the challenge, his signature smile to match. 

Steve grabbed Eddie’s shoulder with a firm hand, standing so Steve’s mouth was not too close to Eddie’s ear, but just enough to mutter, “Two packs of cigarettes, winner’s choice,” lowly before walking away towards the hockey table across the other side of the building. 

As Steve shoved his hand down his jacket pocket to fish for quarters, he began to settle himself into a competitive mind state. That can ground him surely. He popped 50 cents into the slot on the side of the table, rumbling to life with a whir. 

“You’re going down, Stevie boy,” Eddie snarked as he picked up the mallet opposite of Steve, a similar Hellfire red.

“Whatever you say Munson,” Steve smirked as he picked up the neon orange puck, blue mallet in his dominant hand, setting the puck into the arena, the faintest feeling of air glossing over his fingers, before immediately striking the puck with his mallet, sending it skidding over to Eddie’s side in a flash of orange.

Steve’s move had frazzled Eddie, who almost jumped at Steve’s play before hitting the puck back with his own mallet, “Oh it’s so on!”

Four points are split evenly between the two, Steve winning the first goal after Eddie guarded his left side more than his right, groaning with displeasure as Steve reset the puck. Eddie responded with a goal after Steve failed to counter a zig-zag slide across the table, to which he quickly reacted by shooting a straight shot for Eddie’s goal while he was distracted by Robin and Vickie saddling up to their table behind Eddie.

“Having fun girls?” Steve stifles a laugh as Eddie gaped at the score beaming in transparent blue above the table.

The girls nodded happily, Vickie confessing, “We learned we suck at arcade games, but it was still fun!”

“Not as much fun as you guys, clearly,” Robin looked bewildered at the state of the boys, “We just played Miss Pac-Man and Skee Ball!”

Vickie giggled into Robin’s shoulder, which Steve could clearly see Robin spark up in nervous delight.

Steve’s grin only widened, ‘God that’s so sweet’ he thought. 

Eddie slammed the puck back down at the sound of the buzzer indicating 30 seconds remaining, “Alright, It’s either two points or nothing.”

“Let’s see you try,” Steve chided, hunkering himself back into the game. He wanted those damn Marlboros.

Eddie tried his damndest to play offensively to earn his points quickly, an eagerness that Steve exploited in snap shot counters that would cause Eddie to jump. 

A 3rd point scored for Steve.

“Fuck!” Eddie gritted under his breath, a bit loud for a public establishment but just muttered enough to prick Steve’s senses back to the magazine tucked in that leather jacket of his, a secret he now had to keep.

“Last chance for a tie Munson~” Steve sang, “10 seconds.”

Eddie plays the puck on the field, and it’s all too simple for Steve. He fakes him out, lurching his upper body over half the table to send the puck spiraling out of the table and clattering onto the floor.

“That’s so unfair!” Eddie exclaims as he chased the puck down, slotting it back into the table as the air turned off, “I didn’t even get the chance!”

“No Lucky Strikes for you Sir.” Steve popped the collar of his shirt for a second, before joining the girls on the other side of the table, fake combing his hair.

Robin brushed his inflated ego off with a wave of her hand, the reference thankfully going over her head by the entire Steve realized his slip, “Alright air hockey freaks, are we done here?” 

Eddie rolled his eyes at Steve with a smirk still sitting promptly on his face, “I believe so Birdie, shall I be seeing you off?” 

“All of us, actually,” Steve jingled his car keys, and could have sworn he saw a flash of disappointment cross Eddie’s face before Robin gestured towards the entrance, “Lead the way Eddie.”

Eddie holds the door for everyone as they enter the parking lot, but catches Steve’s arm before he passes, “Nice win Stevie,” His round eyes glancing away, “Can you give me a couple days and I’ll get your pacs?”

Steve shook his head, “Don’t worry about it.”

“You won though,” Eddie’s eyes look back to Steve so earnestly, yet an expression that he can’t read, “I keep my word.”

Steve flexes his arm out of Eddie’s grip before slipping out the door of the Arcade.

“You know where I work Munson!” Steve trailed off, face still hot while cracking open the driver seat door to his car before slipping inside, Robin and Vickie chattering in the back.

Steve could feel the joy radiating off of Robin as he carted the two of them back to Robin’s house, a delightful thought until Steve remembered the mess Robin made before leaving for the date. He laughed to himself as he watched them walk up the driveway, maybe Vickie would find it cute or they could bond picking up the laundry. Who knows where the night will take them. 

Driving silently back to the empty house Steve had to call a home, he couldn’t help but try to revisualize that Blueboy cover, the memory already blurry in his mind’s eye. He wondered if by the time Eddie did come around with his bounty, if he would already have a new issue stowed close to his chest.

This would be a thought that would fester in Steve’s brain for over three weeks.